


Thirteen Minutes

by Crysania



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French has only one item on her Bucket List: going storm chasing. So when her father passes away and earmarks money in her inheritance for her dream vacation, she jumps at the chance and books a seat on Gold's Storm Chasing Tours. Along the way she sees some amazing sights, meets some interesting people, and might just fall a little bit in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteen Minutes

  


She hated flying, Belle realized as she stepped into the airport. A necessary evil, that. It’s not that she minded being enclosed in a metal tube that hurtled through the air at 500 miles per hour. Or being stuck next to the guy who had clearly being eating onion rings and taking baths in some sort of rancid cologne. Oh, she could put up with _that_.

“Set your bags here, Miss.” She gave a long look at the security agents at the desk. She wasn't sure if they were trustworthy. She constantly worried they'd paw through her belongings, touching them with sticky fingers. Or worse. That they'd steal something of great importance.

Not that there was anything of _great_ importance in the bags. Clothes, some toiletries. She’d had to pack light this trip. There was only room on the van for one small bag and a bit of carryon luggage. Whatever could fit on your lap and under the seat. The website for the tour said that they needed to move quickly each morning and had little room. _Pack light_. They would stop some places with washers and then she could spend part of her vacation doing laundry. _Wonderful_. But it was what she expected when she booked it, really. So she had her bag with camera and iPad slung over her shoulder and her bag with her clothes set where the first group of security officers could look through it.

She had _almost_ left something untoward on top, something to embarrass them and make them close it up quickly. But she opted against it. She might be just as embarrassed as _they_ were, after all. Instead, she didn't move while they opened it. “Gates are that way,” the woman said as she looked up to find Belle still standing there.

“I know,” Belle responded with. And smiled. _Always smile, my girl_. She could hear her father’s voice in her head. _Smile and the world will give you what you want_. He lived by those words and died by them too. Her father had been a jovial man, honest and forthright. He hadn’t been rich but what he didn’t have in money he had made up with love and care. He had passed away the previous year, his great big heart just not able to take it anymore. He had been there one day, gone the next, and sometimes Belle wasn't sure it wasn’t just another one of her father’s ridiculous practical jokes.

But no, she was here. And her being here was because of the money she inherited from her father. It wasn’t much. But it was _earmarked_ for this. _I know you’ve always wanted to…this is for your dream vacation_. She had cried when she’d read the note. And gone and booked the vacation for a year out. She wanted this. Badly. But she also knew there would be a bit of sadness hanging over it.

She had hoped that a year out would be enough but even thinking about her father’s final gift to her brought tears to her eyes.

“You can…” the woman started to say again and Belle shook her head.

“No go ahead.” The woman looked askance at her for a moment, but then opened her bag, rifled through a little bit. It was all amazingly awkward and done quickly with her watching. People didn't usually stay to watch. She saw others head past her and pause to give her looks. But she had also read about thefts and the last thing she wanted to do is arrive in Oklahoma with nothing but a negligee for clothes. How awkward would _that_ be anyway?

When the woman finished and closed her bag back up, Belle nodded once and then headed on her way. The second security point, the personal one, was her next stop and this one made her even more nervous. The airport she was at had _those_ scanners, the _naked_ ones. She’d never been that comfortable in her body, for all the high heels and short skirts she tended to wear. It was an act, one a high school friend helped her perfect. But she still felt uncomfortable and odd in her own skin at times. And knowing someone could be seeing it _all_ …

She was thankful when she slid through without having to approach it. She had done all the right things, apparently. Submitted her information ahead of time so they could do a background check. She was nothing but the librarian for a small community college, native Australian, American citizen since she turned 18 and could apply for citizenship. She was not a concern and they knew this before she had even shown up.

As she stepped through and put her shoes back on, comfortable ones, no high heels on this trip, she breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left was boarding and the flight.

And then she would embark on the trip of a life time.

At long last.

The wait to get on the plane was a long one. Belle was not usually punctual. Oh she _tried_ to be, but there were books. And it was sometimes hard to set one down. So punctuality was not Belle’s forte. And she was going to have to be for this trip. That was said in no uncertain terms on the website. _If you are late, you are left behind and it will be up to you to find your way back to the tour_. Truth be told, the head of the company seemed a little surly.

She didn’t talk to him when she registered. Registrations and details were discussed over the phone with a man who identified himself as the owner’s son. He helped out in the summer months by driving the second van and, from what he himself said, spending the trip arguing with his father. “There’s only so much time to catch the right weather,” Neal had told her. “Papa’s a little pedantic, but with good reason. Sometimes.” The last was said with a small laugh and Belle found herself instantly liking the man. He was easy going and she hoped she’d end up in his van and not his pedantic father’s.

Belle knew she was not likely to be that lucky, however, so she fully expected to be sitting next to his grumpy father at every turn. It was the way her life tended to go after all. But she'd smile through it. After all, this was the number one thing on her bucket list. The most important trip of her life.

She was going storm chasing.

It wasn't something anyone could have imagined tiny Belle French wanting to do, hopping into a van and chasing down some of Mother Nature’s wildest killers. But she had wanted to see a tornado her whole life, _dreams_ of them in fact. Several times a year she woke up and she was _just_ there, _just_ watching one. And the dreams are always exciting, her eyes glued to the massive churning of the wind, feeling the electricity in the air, hearing the roar of the wind like a thousand trains bearing down on her while thunder goes off in the distance.

It was her dream.

And now she was going to live it, grumpy tour company owner and all.

* * *

The flight to Oklahoma City, where she was to meet up with the rest of the group for the tour was an easy one. A little turbulence a half hour into the flight, and then smooth sailing the rest of the way. She would have fallen asleep except she was _so excited_ that she couldn't. She could barely concentrate on the meteorology books she had brought with her. She had loaded up her iPad with several. Belle _was_ a librarian after all. And books were what she knew best.

She figured she might as well learn something on her way out. Not that she hadn't been doing research in the first place, watching documentaries, reading books and articles. She didn't want to appear stupid…or worse... _unprepared_.

There was a shuttle to the hotel that she could take and she was thankful everything was so easy. The tour group she had signed up with set everything up. And they really did mean _everything_. Hotels, flights, shuttles. They took care of every need a vacationer might have. They would return there ten days later and with stories to tell. She won't be the same person when she goes back as she was when she arrived. She’ll have seen things, things that she could only imagine before. Her friends didn't think something like this could change her radically, but she was sure it would, that seeing the fury of Mother Nature up close would _have_ to change her somehow.

When the shuttle bus arrived at its destination and she had gathered up all her stuff, she trudged into the hotel. This first night would be mostly relaxation. There was a sort of meet and greet, get to know you kind of thing with the rest of the tour group. Apparently there would be a total of twelve people on the tour, six to a van. They were going to be spending a _lot_ of time together so it was best to get a chance to at least be a bit friendly. Belle was definitely not the most extroverted person, preferring to spend more of her time with her books, but she was happy to meet the rest of the group and hoped there were some folks she could spend some time chatting with. If not…well, she had her books and her music to listen to. That would keep her entertained during the long hours of travel each day.

After depositing her bags at her room, taking one quick moment to freshen up, she headed down to the meeting room. According to Neal, it was opened just after noon for anyone who was part of the tour to come to. It was two o’clock now and there was still plenty of time for a bit of a meet and greet before the orientation.

Plus he told her there would be snacks.

And truth to be told, she was _starving_. Airplane food never did anything for her, so she’d eaten her pretzels and drank her diet soda and been happy enough with that. But it hadn't been _real_ food and even now her stomach was protesting.

She stepped into the room and immediately heard a heavily accented voice, Scottish if she was as knowledgeable about accents as she thought she was, off to her right. “Ah, you must be Belle French,” he said and she turned to find an older man, hair just a little bit too long to be fashionable, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than a week of her pay. He seemed out of place among the more casually dressed in the room.

“I am,” she confirmed and cocked her head slightly to the side. “How did you…”

“You’re the last to arrive,” he said and there was a sort of annoyance in his voice.

“Well, I’m _not_ late,” she pointed out. She’d know if she were late. _Arrive by 3:00pm_. She was _early_. And Belle French was _never_ early.

“Don’t you mind my father,” came another voice from behind her and she turned to see a younger man there. There was little resemblance between him and the Scotsman who first spoke to her, though if she looked closely enough she could see the same brown eyes and even some of the same laugh lines. Though the older man looked dour. _Gold_ , she assumed. He must be the owner of the tour company.

“Mr. Gold, I presume?” She met the older man's eyes and watched as one of his eyebrows rose.

“Australian?”

“Once,” she answered. And then shoots back. “Scottish?”

He gave a small huff of laughter. “Once.” His mouth curled up in a half smile and she felt something clench in her belly, felt the breath run just a little bit out of her.

He was beautiful. And she couldn't ever quite remember thinking that about anyone, especially not on first meeting. There was character in his face, the deep lines around his mouth and between his brows speaking to years of hardships. But there were also some little wrinkles fanning out form his eyes that showed that he _does_ laugh, he _does_ smile. It was possible. And she found, for a reason she couldn't quite explain, that she wanted to make him smile.

"Like I said, don't mind him." Belle turned away from the father to greet the son.

"Neal Gold?"

He shoved his hand through his hair. "Yeah. We spoke on the phone." He leaned in close. "This one doesn't like that part of it."

" _This one_ is standing right here," his father pointed out, voice dry. "Why don’t you run along then Neal? I think your fiancée is looking for you."

He gave his father a look. She was almost sure he'd roll his eyes but suspected he didn’t for fear of looking immature in front of the vacationers. "Right," he said and turned away. She supposed it was easier that way.

"He's brought his bloody fiancée on this trip," she heard Gold mutter. "Taking up a whole damned space and for what? So she can _understand_ him better."

"Is that really such a bad thing?" The words came out of Belle's mouth before she could stop them. It was a problem, really. This speaking before her brain is engaged thing. Her father used to tell her it would get her in trouble someday. In fact, it hadn't. But there were a few close calls, that was for sure.

"Yes," Gold snapped at her and walked off. She'd clearly hit _some_ sort of nerve. "Orientation meeting in five minutes!" He shouted the latter words over his shoulder.

"What did he say?" Belle heard a woman nearby say.

She leaned over and repeated the words to her. The woman looked relieved. "Mary Margaret," she said and held out a hand. Belle shook her hand, quickly. Very quickly. She had one of those timid handshakes that made Belle feel a little weird and off. She had always been taught to have a firm handshake. _Don’t let them see any weakness, my girl_. Her father had been a good businessman and he’d instilled all of that into his daughter as she grew up. “My husband is over there,” Mary Margaret pointed to a taller, fair-haired man off to the side of the room fiddling with a camera. “He got himself a new camera just for this trip.”

“And he doesn’t know how to use it,” Belle surmised. Her husband was bent over it, brow furrowed. He looked absolutely flummoxed by the thing.

“Don’t tell him I told you that,” Mary Margaret said in a stage whisper.

Belle laughed and promised to not say a word. Though maybe she could get in on his good graces by offering a few tips. Not that she was an expert photographer by any means. He was not, after all, the only one who went out and bought a camera before coming on the trip. But Belle also bought the book that went with it and joined a photography group for a few months. She knew her photos wouldn't be amazing. She didn't have that kind of knack, but she also knew they should turn out absolutely adequate.

As Mary Margaret moved off, Belle found her gaze drawn back to Gold. He had one arm up, pointing at his son and Neal was gesticulating wildly.

“Well, hello there, love.” Belle turned away from the scene she’d been studying intently to turn toward the new voice, feeling someone annoyed at the intrusion. And she _tried_ to tell herself that this was the meet and greet. She was supposed to be mingling, not watching the owner of the company with some sort of weird fascination.

"I'm Belle," she said and offered her hand to the man.

His eyes looked her up and down and she felt her skin crawl at his somewhat predatory gaze. "So I've heard," he murmured before taking her hand and pressing a rather wet kiss to the back of it. Oh, he had the gallant manners, but there was something just a bit _off_ about them. "Killian Jones, at your service."

"Yes, well…" She glanced up and saw Gold watching her. As soon as their eyes met, he turned back to his son and said something. Neal pointed a finger at him.

“I had the vans all set,” she heard him say and Gold muttered something back, the words too quiet from across the room. But then he grabbed the papers from Neal, wrote something down with firm almost angry strokes and stormed off.

Well, she knew they didn’t get along. Apparently that was not an exaggeration.

Belle turned back to Jones, who had refused to move off despite her turning away from him. "Well, I guess it's time for the meeting!" she said brightly and tried to hide her wiping her hand on her pants. There was just something about the man that made her feel uncomfortable. Enough that she was thankful when he nodded and let her move off without following.

Gold was waving everyone over to where he had set up some chairs. Belle got a spot near the front. She wanted to hear everything, see everything. She was always the student who sat at the front of the class after all. She wouldn't let it be different this time either.

"Come come, I don't have all day," Gold muttered. His son shot him a look. Belle tried to stop herself from smiling and instead turned to watching as the rest of the group find their seats. There was a young woman, dressed in shorts that were, well, very short indeed, and an older woman with her. Mother, grandmother maybe. She had her knitting out even as she sat down. Belle watched as she shot the younger woman an annoyed look as the she shared a flirtatious wink with one of the men in the room. There was Mary Margaret and her husband. She didn't catch his name but he seemed happy enough to follow his wife's lead. His camera had finally been put back in the bag. He was done fiddling. For now at least. Belle suspected he was going to be messing around with that thing throughout the entire trip.

Besides them and Killian, who seemed to be trying to buddy up to a young woman with long blond hair who was pointing rather emphatically at Neal, there was a young woman with an amazing amount of curly bright red hair. She looked a bit sullen, glaring at anyone who got too close. It kept most of the folks away, including a darker-skinned man who paused at the seat next to her before moving off and sitting down next to Belle. He was young, handsome. And he shot her a smile that she found charming. "Name's Merlin," he said as he leaned in closer to her.

"Merlin?" Belle asked and she couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of her voice. "Like the wizard?"

He shrugged. "It's what they call me at least."

"Do I even want to know what…"

"Tech. Specifically MMORPGs. You've heard of Kingdom of Weiseth?" She had heard of it, knew some folks who played it. But she had never seen it up close. She was far more interested in her books than computer games. "That's mine."

Well, she supposed it _was_ impressive at least. He didn’t look a day over 25 and she imagined it was quite a feat for one so young. Though he did seem to be more impressed with himself than she was. So she just nodded and turned away instead. She supposed it wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for.

On her other side was an older man, stout, bearded. And he looked grumpy. _Really_ grumpy. "You don't look like you actually want to be here," Belle said as she leaned over toward him.

"Two years sober, sister," he muttered.

She didn’t have any time to respond before Gold was demanding their attention.

"Welcome," he said and she can see the begrudging way he addressed the group. "As most of you have probably figured out by now, I'm the Gold of Gold's Storm Chasing Tours. I've been chasing for over 20 years now and founded this company, the first of its kind nearly ten years ago. At a time when no one thought this was a viable business." He didn’t want to be there, Belle realized. Or maybe he wanted to just be out chasing, finding the storms, reading the data. But it was clear from the pinched look on his face that addressing the motley crowd in front of him was not part of what he enjoyed about his job.

He loved what he did though and that much was obvious. He'd set himself on a lifetime study of severe weather, something that had fascinated him since he was a child. She noticed that he didn't disclose any more personal information than was absolutely necessary. He was interested in severe weather from a young age. He went to school and got degrees in meteorology. And this was what he did in his spare time during the summer. She wondered what he did during the year. She knew that storm chasing wasn't a full time career so he must do _something_. Maybe she'd find out sometime on the trip. If she dared ask him. Blinking hard she tried to turn her mind back toward what he was saying _now_ instead of wondering about the man. _Just what_ was _it about him anyway?_

His son had begun to join him some years back after pursuing his own degree. She could tell there was love there, but she also saw the way Neal tensed every time his father gestured at him. She didn't know what that story was, wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she suspected there was a long history.

"Now that you know a bit about me and this tour, I want to brief you on what is _the_ most important thing on this entire trip. Safety." Safety first. It was what his website said and he reiterated it now, stressing that at all times they were to listen to him and Neal, that if they said to get back in the van they were to do it immediately. He would keep the group safe but only if they all followed his instructions to the exact letter.

There were questions at that of course.

"How close are we going to get to these things?" That one was from Killian and she watched as he ran his fingers through his hair and gave Gold a lopsided grin.

"As close as is safe." Gold's voice was clipped.

"Can you get pictures of me in front of one of those things?"

"Tornadoes, you mean Mr. Jones?" Gold didn’t even try to hide his annoyance as he spoke. Killian leaned back and she saw the surprise across his face. "Oh did you think I didn't know who you are?" Gold murmured and there was sarcasm behind the words. She sensed that there was _often_ sarcasm behind his words. "I'm sure someone will manage to get pictures of your dashing self in front of one of _those things_."

He turned away from Jones and addressed the group again. "Any _real_ questions about safety protocol?"

The group was silent.

Belle bit back a giggle.

"Alright so let me tell you how each day is going to go." They'd start in the morning, 8:00am sharp. By that time he and his son would have gone over all the data showing weather patterns and where storms were likely to crop up that day. They'd show it to the group, discuss where they were heading to, and then by 9:00am they would be loading the vans and heading out.

Travel was long on these trips. And there wasn't often scenery. So the group needed to be prepared to find a way to pass the time. Gold pointed out that the vans are equipped with power and Wi-Fi and so they should be able to keep computers and camera batteries charged and check things on the internet. There's a link, he points out, where they can see the same radar and data they'll be looking at as they tweak the direction they're traveling in.

There would be the occasional stop for bathroom breaks and snacks. Sometimes snacks were all they’d get to eat until late at night. Depending on the day there might be a stop for lunch or there might be some other things to see and do if it's a particularly quiet day across the plains.

The interesting thing about taking such a trip was that every day was an adventure and was entirely unplanned until they had a chance to look at the radar and weather data. And even _then_ things could change in the blink of an eye. They'd end up back in Oklahoma City at the end, but for several days, they were at the mercy of Mother Nature, going where she willed them to go. It was a glorious thing. Freeing in a way. Belle had never been on any sort of guided tour before, but she knew she would find knowing _exactly_ where they were going every single day to be fairly boring.

This was exciting in so many ways.

The meeting broke up soon afterward and Gold pointed out that the hotel they were staying at had a decent enough restaurant if folks needed something to eat.

Belle was on her way out when she felt a hand lightly touch her arm. She turned and found Gold standing there, watching her, a hesitant look on his face. "If he bothers you…"

For a moment she wasn’t sure what he was talking about but then watched where his gaze fell. Killian was currently following the blond woman out and she watched as the woman caught up to Neal and linked an arm with him. "His fiancée?"

Gold nodded, a small smile playing about his lips. "Indeed."

"I can hold my own," Belle said after a moment's pause.

"I have no doubt you can," Gold responded with, his eyes moving to Killian for a moment before turning back to her. "But just in case…"

"Thanks." And with his nod, she slipped from the room.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. Belle had intended to find something to eat through room service but decided she'd much rather get out of her room for a little bit. She ended up finding the young woman in her overly tight shorts and the woman who turned out to be her grandmother in the lobby heading into the restaurant.

They invited her to join them and she couldn’t refuse. They'd be spending the next ten days together after all. "Ruby," the younger woman said. "Ruby Lucas. This is my Granny."

The older woman gave a small huff.

"It's nice to meet you, Ms…" She let her voice trail off.

"Granny is good enough," she responded with and her voice was just a bit rough around the edges. "It's what everyone calls me."

"Everyone?" Belle turned to Ruby as she spoke.

Ruby nodded. "We own a diner back home. Everyone knows us.”

“I’m a librarian,” Belle responded with. “No one knows me.”

Ruby laughed and Belle found she _liked_ her laugh. She had a good laugh. She was not surprised that everyone back in their town knew her. She seemed friendly and forthright and she was easy to talk to. Even if her grandmother, _Granny_ , rolled her eyes half the time that her granddaughter spoke.

Belle wondered what the relationship was there. They were obviously close and yet at the same time it seemed they barely tolerated each other. When Granny slipped away to the bathroom, Ruby leaned over to Belle. “Don’t mind her.” The half smile she gave her was a little apologetic. “My grandpa died a few months ago.”

Belle nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time coming, really. It was a mercy in some ways.” She glanced away, her eyes following the path her grandmother had taken to the bathroom a moment ago. “I think she only came on this trip to keep her mind off of things. Truth be told, I think she’s a little scared of storms.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “And she came on a storm chasing vacation?”

Ruby shrugged. “It’s my bucket list vacation. I guess Granny couldn’t resist seeing me get my wish. I’m the only family she has left.”

Belle sighed. “Mine too.” She wanted to say more, wanted to tell this very open woman that she was there because _her_ father died and so she understood all too well. But she didn’t. And she wasn’t quite sure why. “I mean, my bucket list vacation.”

Granny returned then and conversation drifted away from the sadness that had been hanging over them. Loss was something Belle understood all too well. Losing her mother at a young age, losing her whole family when her father packed them up and moved them to the United States, losing her father just this past year when he was still young.

But this wasn’t what the trip is for.

The trip was for happiness, for new memories. New friends, even, she realized as Ruby laughed at something she said and raised her glass in a toast.

As she headed off from dinner, she was thankful that at least one of the people on the trip was friendly and someone she could talk to. And even if her grandmother spent most of the time being quiet and glowering a little at her daughter, she was thankful for Ruby’s bright presence on the trip.

“Miss French?”

She heard the voice behind her just as she reached the elevator. She turned, maybe a little too quickly, to find Gold standing there. He looked strangely awkward when he wasn’t commanding the room, but no less handsome than earlier. She was surprised at the return of that strange feeling in the pit of her belly.

This sort of thing didn’t happen.

Not to Belle at least.

Belle never found someone attractive upon first meeting. And yet she felt drawn to him. And she couldn’t even begin to explain why.

“Mr. Gold,” she responded with and if her voice was a little breathy, she hoped he’d chalk it up to her rushing for the elevator. “Can I do something for you?”

He reached around her and hit the button for the elevator. “Well, not exactly.” She watched as he cleared his throat. “Killian Jones…” he started to say.

“Ah yes, Mr. Danger himself?” She couldn’t help smirking.

“Yes, that one.” At least Gold was smiling back at her. And she was managing to keep her cool. “Was he… _bothering_ …you anymore?”

She raised one eyebrow. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’m worried about all my passengers,” he shot back and for a moment she felt embarrassed by the somewhat flirtatious bent to her question.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“No matter,” he said and waved a hand in the air near her. “But if he’s bothering you…”

“I can handle him.” She’s handled worse. There was Keith, former football player and town lay about who stopped into the library on occasion to harass her. He was bigger than Killian Jones and known to be a mean drunk. But she’d dealt with him a number of times. Jones didn’t frighten her.

“Yes, well, just the same. I’ve chosen to switch some folks around on the vans.” The elevator doors opened then and he waved her through. Old-fashioned, ladies first, and all. “You’ll ride with me now.”

The doors close behind him and they press the buttons for their floors. He was on the fourteenth floor, she noted. Thirteen really, but like so many hotels built earlier in the century, the one they were staying at did not have a thirteenth floor. Strange superstition, that.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say. “I can’t say I was looking forward to an extended trip of fending off his advances.”

“Yes, well, now my son will have to.” There was a sort of grim amusement to the words.

“He’s hit on your son too?” She can’t help the words as they slip out of her mouth. Gold stared at her for a moment before letting out a laugh. She liked his laugh, she realized. It was quiet, slightly unsure of itself, but a welcome relief to her. He had a sense of humor and that was probably needed for a long trip in such close confines.

“What?...no…”

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Couldn’t help myself.” She paused, hoping things hadn’t gotten awkward. And then managed to dive headfirst into _more_ awkwardness. Because that was, ultimately, what Belle was best at. Speak first, think later, and then spend all evening fretting about her words. “So that’s what you were arguing about.”

He shrugged. “Sort of.” The elevator dinged then, disrupting the awkward conversation. “It seems this is your floor.”

She nodded and stepped off, but a moment later reached back to put her hand on the elevator. “Mr. Gold?”

“Yes?”

She wasn’t quite sure what to say, not really. She wanted to say _something_. Probably things she never quite thought she’d say. But instead took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

He nodded once and she stepped back, letting the elevator close between them. Perhaps all those roiling thoughts in her head were better off left unsaid.


End file.
